


Parapraxis

by SilverSpoon6609



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:51:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 16,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1872033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSpoon6609/pseuds/SilverSpoon6609
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into Beth's bedroom at the end of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's hard to pinpoint exactly how long they have been staying in the little brick ranch. Beth figures it's at least a week, probably two. Things have been tense but everyone is healing up and working on trying to regain all the footing they've lost over the past few months. They've paired off into the four bedrooms and the den or made camp on the living room floor and someone is always out on the porch, keeping watch. She has staked a claim to one of the smaller bedrooms, no one argues because Judith stays with her more than anyone else.

Beth doesn't know exactly where Daryl has been sleeping, she thinks it's in the hall beside her door. His pack and extra clothes are in the corner of her room and every night he double checks the boarded up window across from the bed. She finds herself watching him more and more every day, the way he is almost always close by makes it easy. He's been hovering around her since they found each other again and other than the way he roughly pulled her against his chest and breathed heavily into her hair that first time he saw her, they haven't touched. He keeps his mouth set in a thin line, his bottom lip pulled halfway between his teeth. His movements seem more stiff than she remembered and she hopes the stitches she gave him that first night healed alright.

Daryl is quiet. He always was but it's more obvious to her now. He spends a decent amount of time in her room, especially at night and in the dusky hours of the morning before he goes out to hunt. It's become a bit of a ritual, him sitting there across from her, watching and listening to Beth's gentle voice coaxing Judith off to sleep. She's not sure what to think of the way he drops his head to his chest and struggles to slow his breathing. She knows how hard it is for him to seek out comfort, even from her, it's painfully evident in the way he stays on the edge of the group, like he had done back on the farm.

One night he comes to her room a little later than usual and she's laying in bed with Judith tucked beside her. She barely catches the look of disappointment on his face when he sees the baby is asleep. He wavers in the doorway, chewing on his chapped lip. She looks at him and waits to make eye contact before motioning for him to come in. The bed is pushed into the corner and Judith is snoring a little between her and the wall.

"She's been fussy, I don't want to move her yet. Come sit with us."

He hesitates before crossing the room and gently lowering himself onto the edge of the bed. This is the closest they have been and she tries to pretend it doesn't matter. He's biting the side of his thumb and looking at the worn socks on her feet. She knows he won't be saying much. When she gets up to move the baby to her folding crib he goes to change his shirt. He knows she's seen all of him and he doesn't have the energy to bother with the pretense of modesty around her, not any more. She saw the thick discolored scars on his back and the less noticeable ones on his chest when she was stitching him up. She had seen the uneven circles on his arms countless times. She had paused helping him get dressed that first night in the house, when her eyes fell on the thin silvery scars on his thighs that matched the one on her wrist.

Beth moves to stand beside him and lets her fingers brush against the back of his hand. He stiffens up before letting out a breath.

"Stay with us?"

She says us on purpose, she knows it's always been easier for him to relax a bit around Judith. He pushes his lip in and out of his mouth before letting his thumbnail take it's place and nodding. He looks down at where her hand is touching his before leaning down to unlace his boots. He finally lays on his back beside her on the bed, eyes darting around the room before settling on the crack in the ceiling. Beth falls asleep on her side facing him.

The next night Judy is just about to fall asleep, snuggled in beside her, when he settles in next to them. Beth is alternating between singing softly and humming. Daryl lays on his side to look at them. He falls asleep right after Judith.

It's the first time that Beth notices he has nightmares. She can't help but wonder why she didn't pick up on it when it was just the two of them, but then he mumbles something that sounds like her name. He's twitching a bit beside her and making small noises that sound like they're coming from some place deep in his chest. She whispers to him and watches as he shifts a little and pulls his thumb up next to his mouth, it settles against the corner of his lip.

He's quiet in the morning, even more so than usual, and he doesn't go to hunt. He stays close to her, hardly hiding his glances in her direction. That night, he comes into the room early.

"It's raining pretty hard. Ain't nothing to do."

He hands her a clean diaper and takes Judith so Beth can change. She can feel his eyes on her and is not surprised when she turns around to find them right where she expected. The baby goes to sleep easier than she has been and settles right down in her folding crib. Beth smiles when she turns around to find him already laying down, she crawls in beside him. He's fidgeting beside her, rustling the few worn blankets.

"Come 'ere, you're gonna wake her up." Beth lifts her arm and makes a spot for him on her shoulder. He lets out a breath that seems like it has been held in forever and then carefully lays his head on her. She's whispering to him about books she has read and how they were different from the movies and her hand is raking gently through his hair. Something about her voice and the way she touches him makes their closeness bearable and he can feel his muscles go slack. Beth notices him start to lose focus and watches as his hand moves to his mouth while his eyes drift closed.

She wakes up before the sun to the warmth of someone beside her. Daryl is curled up next to her still asleep, with his thumb in his mouth. She can't help but shift a little in the bed, it's just enough to wake him.

He blinks a little and rubs his face against her arm.

"Shh, it's too early. Just close your eyes."

He panics for a second at the sound of her voice. He knows she saw but then he feels her hand rubbing small circles on his arm it somehow it pushes away the embarrassment. He goes to move his hand but her body is pushed up against his arm, he lets it stay where it is and watches her fall back to sleep. He leaves a little while later.

Daryl barely looks at her when he comes to her room late that night. He changes huddled in the corner and sits on the edge of the bed next to the rocking chair. He looks at Judith's feet and listens to Beth read about lost boys and the second star to the right and straight on till morning. Once Judith falls asleep, Beth moves to the bed with the book. She had stopped in the middle of a sentence and picks up right where she left off. He watches her lay down and make a spot for him.

He's not sure what to think. She's not looking at him and still reading aloud. He had never planned on letting her see all of these broken and needy bits and pieces of himself. Hell, he had spent most of his life trying to bury them deeper and deeper, so he could forget they were there. She makes him feel safe and he's not sure how to handle it. He doesn't know how to process her letting him be this smaller version of himself when they're laying next each other and then looking at him in that way that says he's the only one she trusts to take care of them the next morning. The dichotomy of her reactions to him makes him feel like he should be questioning everything he was ever taught. He hates how his gut reaction is to run from the safety and acceptance he finds with her, her laying there on the bed reading. He knows she is waiting for him, giving him time to come to terms with whatever is going through his head. She finally stops reading and looks up.

"Come lay with me, Daryl."

He does.

It's been two weeks since he started sharing her bed. Each day it's a little less awkward, the few minutes right before they lay down together. He doesn't hide looking at her anymore either. Every now and then his rough hand with push her hair off her face while he lets his eyes land everywhere, except on hers. The few times he falls asleep first she watches him pull his lip into his mouth before his hand moves and his thumb rests on his cheek. It only goes into his mouth if he is trying to settle down after a nightmare or if the day was more stressful than usual. She thinks back to all the times she noticed him chewing on the inside of his cheek or his bottom lip, how quickly he would burn through every pack of cigarettes they found, the way he would choose to eat with his fingers even if they had utensils. All these things make her wonder how long he has been relying on himself for any small bit of comfort he can get.

The nights are getting colder and she gives Judith one of their warmer blankets. The next morning he wakes up to his arm across her stomach and his hand fisted in her shirt, she gives him a sleepy smile before moving impossibly closer. He makes a small noise, some words that are hardly intelligible, and buries his nose in the spot between her neck and shoulder. It's the first time he asks her to stay.


	2. Chapter 2

Beth snuggles in closer to him in the early mornings. It's something he's gotten used to over the past weeks, the way her body moves to find his just as the first rays of light are pushing through the last bits of grey outside.

He's come to associate her with the sunrise. The warmth of her against him gives him the feeling of relief, he's safe there with her in his arms. It's like little beams of her have managed to push themselves right into him and he didn't know he had room for something like that inside him. He didn't know that he could do this, just be with someone and never want to stop touching them.

Daryl hates to wake her when the room brightens up, light poking through the small cracks in the boarded up window. He watches her stretch and then holds her tight against him, safe in his arms, for one more moment, before he has to remember that they're fighting for their lives.

She climbs out of bed less gracefully than he expects and starts getting ready for the day. He doesn't hide watching her and lets his eyes track her movements around the room. She pulls on her boots and laces them up, he brought her new ones from a run to some sports store. Beth tucks a small knife in her boot and leaves another larger one sheathed on her hip. She pulls her hair back and fixes the small braid before laying out Judith's clothes for the day. While he's tightening the laces on his own boots she comes up to him and places a kiss on the side of his head.

"Good morning."

And goddammit, he's fifteen again. The red flush of embarrassment creeps up his neck and he doesn't know what to do, how to reciprocate her perfectly placed token of affection. He pulls his lip into his mouth and forces his hand out. It lands in an awkward spot on her side and he tugs on her shirt a little. Beth seems to know, to somehow understand his stunted gesture, and see that he's trying. She slips her small hand into his and pushes the fabric out of the way. She watches him look at their intertwined fingers and carefully move his thumb over the lines in her palm. He squeezes her hand for a second before he leaves.

The nights are easier on him now, at least Beth thinks so. He hardly ever has nightmares and falls asleep pretty quickly, the bags under his eyes are less prominent. He even says good night to everyone and follows her into their room without hiding where he's going. She knows the nights are easier on her. Having him there, being able to reach out and touch him after not knowing. The time apart from everyone felt so much longer than it was.

She was usually the one doing the talking. Telling him about her life, her friends, her family. She reads aloud in bed a few times a week, she doesn't mind, taking the pressure off him. It takes awhile for him to feel comfortable with their closeness, to enjoy the sound of only her heartbeat and not worry about what his lack of conversation. But one night he pulls her closer than they usually sleep and hooks his leg over hers. He rubs little patterns on her shoulder and tells her about the first deer he got.

His voice is low and rough when they're laying in bed, legs woven together and hands softly touching. He tells her things in fragments, he stutters a little and tends to talk with his eyes closed. Every few nights she gets a few words that let on how much he's carrying on his shoulders.

"Thought you were…"

"Never had any… no… no one ever…"

"Ain't lettin' that ever…"

"Can't do that again…"

Each time she lets him finish before reaching out to him. Most nights it's just a few short sentences, it's only once or twice that he keeps going. Once he tells her about his life before, it's halted and disconnected. He talks like it happened to someone else, some person he doesn't know anymore. Another time he talks about understanding what a family is because of Rick. His voice is warm and almost reverent, the sincerity in it hits her hard. How Rick was just a man trying to keep his family together, how Rick is what a father should be like. Daryl whispers to her how proud he is to be part of that, how he never thought he could be part of something good.

It's one night after a few hectic days that she can tell he wants to tell her something. There was a close call on the run earlier and even though it wasn't one of them and everyone's alright, he's still a little shaken. Nights like this he doesn't hesitate to head into their room early. He tangles a hand in her hair and runs his fingers over her braid.

"I's never good…at being alone."

Beth pushes some hair out of his eyes and nods at him.

He clears his throat a little, "Even with Merle… I's with him but… but I was never really with him."

He pulls in a deep breath, "I was always still alone." He mirrors her earlier movement and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I ain't alone with you."

Somehow his voice drops even lower, softer than his rough sounding irregular disclosures.

Daryl opens his eyes and looks right at her.

"I love you."


	3. Chapter 3

Beth tells him "I love you". She says it every night before they go to bed. She says it every morning when they wake up. He's heard it more in the few months with her than he ever heard it in the first three decades of his life. At first he has to remind himself that she's talking to him. He holds his breath when he hears her say it, he doesn't want any sound other than her voice. Each time he lets it sink in, until finally, one day, when it's raining outside and she comes into the room with wet hair dripping on their floor, he doesn't have to force himself to believe it's true. It just is.

He doesn't say it as much as she does. His lips still feel clumsy forming the words and it's easier just to press them against hers instead. The few times he does tell her are the times he feels like she has to understand how wholly devoted he is to her. He feels like if he doesn't say it she could slip away from his desperate grasp and there is no way in hell he will ever let that happen again. Each time his voice drops low and soft, he looks right in her eyes as he says it.

Daryl falls asleep with his face pressed as close to her body as he can get it. There is an incomparable comfort he finds in the the way the air he breathes out comes back to him smelling like her. He never shared a bed with someone like this before, but it's easier and easier every night to allow himself to find solace in her. He finds himself starting to let go of some of the hurt and dejection that has shaped his interactions with people for most of his life. It's easier to do when Beth brings up something that seems to give him a new sense of comprehension.

It was after he told her how he grew up. She had taken everything in as he told her and rested her hand on the back of his neck. She hadn't said much, just thanked him for trusting her with it.

Later in the week she lets her hand find the uneven skin of his back and trace over the scars closest to his ribs. There are a few spots that are so sensitive he can't help the small groan that escapes his lips. He's not used to being touched so carefully and is grateful when she moves her hand to his arm.

"When did you leave?"

"Mmm?"

"Your house… your father."

Daryl shifts a little, dips his head down so he's not looking at her face. "Seventeen, beginnin' of the summer." His words are half muffled in her shirt.

"You're thirty-six now, right?"

He doesn't like to think about it, the way his number is so much further down the line than hers. Daryl just gives a small nod into her shoulder. He feels her tap her fingers against him.

"My birthday's in July."

He has no clue where she's going with this and can feel his nerves flaring up, screaming at him to close up, to push away.

"All those things… that happened to you… growing up…"

Daryl stiffens against her.

"I wasn't around then. I was born right after you left."

He finally understands what she's telling him. His tightened muscles quiver for second before he forces them to relax.

"That was a different world, Daryl."

And then everything makes sense to him, the way he's drawn to her. The brilliant beacon of hope she gives him even though it's the end of the world. Those first things, those daunting memories, the ugly experiences that made him feel so disconnected and inadequate in the way he saw the world, never happened in a time where she existed. After that night he doesn't see the difference in their ages the same way. He lets the revelation she gave to him push away the self imposed shame and replaces it with reverence, a deep-seated gratitude, for the way she gets through to him and forces him to see things he didn't know existed.


	4. Chapter 4

Their hands have been hesitantly reaching a little past their previous boundaries. It's Daryl's that moves first, from resting on her arm to the spot where her ribs stand out just enough to make her skin dip down to her stomach. He lets his thumb gently stroke her there, with just enough pressure so it doesn't tickle. It doesn't take Beth long to follow his lead. Her fingers ghost along the underside of his collarbone before tracing the outlines of muscle on his chest. It's getting easier for him to relax into her touch and he pushes himself closer.

Later that night, she whispers to him about the power of touch. How people need contact with each other. She lays her hands on parts of him that no one has really touched before, at least not the way she touches them. She pulls a little on the hair on his chest, lets her fingers drift over his ribs. Beth lifts her hand to smooth his eyebrows, he closes his eyes and feels her fingers run down the bridge of his nose and over his lips until both of her hands come up to cup his jaw. He opens his eyes just long enough to see her leaning in to kiss each place she touched. And god, he's never felt this close to another person, the feeling is so intense that he's not even embarrassed when she kisses the few tears that slip down onto his cheeks.

The first time his mouth finds that soft spot on her collarbone and he gently brings a bit of her skin between his teeth, Beth swears her body has parts she never knew about. She can't hold back a moan and is so grateful that the baby is sleeping in her father's room now.

The tank top she's been wearing to bed is a little too big and all he has to do is move it aside to let his lips find her breast. He sucks on her skin just until the slight tingle of pain becomes too sharp. He places feather-light kisses along the outer curve of her breast before his tongue moves to swirl around her nipple and he pulls it, just a little too hard, into his mouth. He traces his lips over the the line of her ribs as he makes his way to the other side. Her chest is heaving with the anticipation of his kiss and he doesn't disappoint. Daryl pushes the loose fabric out of the way and hovers above her for a minute. His eyes rake over her body and land on her blue eyes. He holds her gaze as his lip catches on the bottom curve of her breast and he moves up to her nipple.

Daryl kisses and sucks on every inch of skin, he wants to taste each part of her. The tendons in her neck, the sensitive spot on the inside of her wrist, the tiny beads of sweet, nervous, sweat on her brow. He's absolutely amazed that he's the only one to touch her like this, that he's the person to lay his lips on the small freckle on her hip. That his are the hands tracing every perfect angle. That his name is the one her lips are forming.

One night he lets his hand rest on her upper thigh. It's begging, he's letting his body reach out to her and beg. All he wants is to make her feel good, to see what she does when he makes her feel good.

"Beth."

He stops kissing her but talks against her skin, right behind her ear.

"Can I… can I touch you?" His fingertips skim the elastic band of her underwear and then she whispers yes.

For once, he doesn't think about the first fumbling experience with that girl that Merle sent his way when he turned eighteen. He doesn't think about the way she forced his hand, and the rest of him just followed along. All Daryl can think about is how Beth's patch of soft hair feels against his palm while he carefully dips a finger inside her. He doesn't hear anything other than the quiet whimpers she makes and the way they turn to soft moans when he adds a second finger.

He brings her to the edge that night with his right hand, but he sends her soaring over it with his mouth. Daryl can't help himself, she's wet and warm and after he pulls his hand away and brings those two fingers to his mouth the smell and taste of her is all he can focus on. He licks and sucks and nips and pulls at every part of her he can until her body finally gives into him, until all of the tension in her dissipates and leaves her a beautiful, melted mess in his arms.

Daryl can't hold back the way his breath hisses through his teeth when Beth laces their hands together and rubs him through the boxers he wears to bed.

"Show me how?" Her voice is breathy and a little raspy from trying to keep herself quiet minutes before.

He closes his eyes and leads her hand under the band of his boxers as he slides them off. He covers her hand with is and curls her fingers around his dick with her thumb pressed in the sensitive spot underneath the head. He shows her once, how to pull with just the right amount of pressure, and then she's doing it and he's staring at her perfect hand wrapped around him moving up and down, twisting just a little with the angle of their bodies. It doesn't take long for him, the combination of seeing her touching him and still being able to taste her on his lips as her thumb presses in to that spot one more time has him at her mercy. Daryl comes hard and fast, his whole body tensing up with his eyes squeezed shut as he twitches in her hand.

It takes him a little longer than it used to slow his breathing, his body isn't used to the rush of release anymore and he can feel the slight burn in the muscles of his lower abs. He uses his mostly clean shirt to wipe her hand and then himself before kissing the side of her mouth and pulling her close. One hand rubs small circles on her back until he can't keep his eyes open to stay on her sleeping face anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

He was exhausted when he came back from hunting. After cleaning the deer he scored and washing the best he could in the rigged outdoor shower, went to their room to see Beth. She was always so excited to hear if he caught anything, he was anxious to see the look on her face when he told her about the deer. He always paused for a second before he opened their door and thanked whoever was listening that he had her back.

The bedroom was empty. Her boots weren't there and neither was her pistol.

He slammed the door behind him as he left. The generic framed flower print shook on the wall.

A few hours later the bedroom door swings open into the wall.

"You can't talk to me like that Daryl!" She drops her arms in frustration, "You go off all the time on your own! I was with Maggie and Rick, I wasn't off wandering the woods like you do every day!"

"I been in the woods alone every day all my life, it ain't remotely the same." His voice is a growl.

"We've done that same run together a dozen times! There's three routes back here. You can't expect me to just stay here all day worrying and waiting for you!"

He gets close to her face, "Least I tell ya where I'm gonna be! You ain't comin' home to an empty room and no clue what's goin' on!"

"You can't keep tabs on me all day!"

"Why not? I'm s'posed to just sit around and twiddle my damn thumbs while you're out there? What if something happened?"

"I can take care of myself." Beth glares right back at him, "I think I already proved that."

He doesn't say anything else as she stomps out of the room.

Daryl is sitting in the rocking chair when she comes back. He's playing with one of his knives and working the inside of his cheek between his teeth while his eyes memorize the woodgrain patterns on their floor.

"I shoulda left a note or something. I didn't mean to worry you. I couldn't just stay here all day and they needed a third person."

"I know."

"I'm not gonna just sit around inside forever."

"I know."

"You shouldn'ta yelled at me like that, in front of everyone."

"I know."

"Don't you have anything else to say?"

" 'M sorry." He's looking everywhere except at her. "I don't want you to have to take care of yourself. Not again."

"Daryl…"

"Not knowin'… where you were. All I could think of was that car… Dammit Beth, you could be around the corner in the kitchen and I see that car. There's a spot in the garden, behind the tree… can't see from the house, all I see is that car…"

She thinks on it then, the way he enters a room with frantic eyes. The crash of the front door when he steps out onto the porch just to ask if she needs a drink. The way he hovers in the hallway when she's walking from room to room. "Daryl…"

"Was easier when I wasn't afraid of nothin'."

"Would you go back, to living like that?" She can barely finish before he's answering her.

"No."

"Me either. Having this and being afraid of losing it, that's just how it works."

He shakes his head, "Can't just forget… what happened. What it felt like to lose you."

"I know, it scares me too."

"And that was before…"

"It's just part of our lives now, that fear."

"How do you not let it… how do you keep it somewhere… so it's not right there… all the time?"

"Mostly I just push it to the back. Keep tucked in some dusty corner. It's gotta stay there though." She goes to him and lets him wrap his arms around her. "Lot's of this helps."

He breathes in her scent, and lets it push the feeling of fear down. At least while she's safe in his arms.


	6. Chapter 6

Judith is sitting on a blanket laid out on the floor with Beth next to her. They're pointing out different colors in one of her books when Daryl comes in from dinner. He leaves his vest on the dresser and his boots by the door. He doesn't even try to hide his smile at the high pitched greeting he gets as he sits down in the rocking chair. He watches the way Beth plays off of whatever the baby is doing to show her things, he sees the pride in her eyes when Judith copies the hand motions she taught her. He feels the love that Beth projects outward and knows the selfless way she spends her time. He can't help but think how lucky Lil' Asskicker is to have her around.

"You'd be a great mom."

Beth lets her eyes jump up from the board book in her hand, and land on him. He's looking at her through the fringe of hair in his eyes and there's a longing in his stare that is different from the looks she's used to.

"Thanks."

"Mmhmm." He moves to sit next to them on the floor and holds up one of the stuffed animals. "I never had a bunch of toys and books like her." Daryl picks at a loose seam and rubs a bare spot on the pink lamb. "No one to really play with either, 'cept this one lady used to come over every couple months when I's little."

"Who was she?"

"Social worker. She was nice though."

Beth watches as Daryl plays a game of peek-a-boo and Judith smiles and talks to him with her da's and ba's. It's hard to hear him talk about growing up like that. She thinks back on the toy box in the attic at the farm. The toys that were still there from Maggie and Shawn, the new ones that she got every year for Christmas and her birthday that eventually all ended up there. She thinks about her mom setting up the dollhouse, playing Yatzee, and coloring at the kitchen table. She thinks about her father's gentle voice reading in the living room. She pictures Daryl doing those things with a little blond-haired girl sitting next to him.

"You'd be a good father, Daryl."

His fingers still on their way walking up Judith's arm and instead go to smooth down her soft hair. "I dunno."

"I know you would."

"Never really thought much on it." He shrugs, the way he does when he isn't telling her what he really wants to, as Judith climbs onto him and settles in his lap.

"If things were… different… safer, I mean, would you want…" Her voice is shakier than the way it sounded in her head.

"Things are the way they are."

"I mean… with me?"

He just looks at her, quiet for a little too long, before he answers.

"You're askin' if I would have a kid with you."

Beth blushes and turns her head away, "Well, yeah. If things were... different."

Daryl looks around their room, at the books and toys and then their packs ready to go in the corner, and then down at the baby in his lap. He lets her grab the fingers on one hand and touches her hair again with the other. His voice drops to the low tone he uses when he's nervous, "You wouldn't be... scared… I'd be like… like mine was?"

"No, not at all."

It seems to take him a while to process her answer. Judith crawls off him and over to Beth. She lays her down on the floor to change her for bed. After Daryl says good night, Beth brings the baby to Rick. When she gets back in the room, he's sitting on the edge of their bed, twisting some of the blanket between his fingers and chewing on his lip. She can see the tension in the line of his back, the way his shoulders are set.

"Hey… it's no big deal if you don't… want to…do what I asked you before. I was just curious." She tries, unsuccessfully, to hide her disappointment and shrug off his distance.

"It ain't that."

Her blue eyes snap up to his.

"Just… wish things were different."


	7. Chapter 7

All of their clothes are washed and neatly folded. Her hair has been brushed out and re-braided. Her knives have been cleaned and sharpened. The tomatoes from the garden have been canned and are lined up in the kitchen. The small bookshelf in the corner has been reorganized, alphabetically by author. Beth has been sitting alone in their room for what seems like hours. She can't focus on the book in her hands or on the any of the songs she had been writing. All she can focus on is the conversation they had a couple weeks ago. The one about pushing that fear down and living. About what they have between them being worth dealing with the fact that one day the other might not come home.

They were supposed to have been back already. Hours ago. Before it got dark. The small room feels so big and empty without Daryl there. He had kissed her and pulled her close before he left their room, just like he did every day, right after she told him she loved him, and now it's the only thing she can think about. She's sitting on their bed, tracing her hand along the place where he usually lays, wishing she had held on longer. She had told Maggie she was going to lay down but the bed feels cold and uncomfortable without him in it.

She hears Maggie and Glenn in the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner.

She hears Eugene talking to Carl about some comic book that they both used to read.

She hears everyone trying to drown out the lack of sound from the voices they aren't hearing in their little house.

She finally hears the rumble of the truck pulling into the garage and has to force herself to stay where she is. The front door opens and people are making all kinds of noise that will definitely wake Judith, suddenly Rick is standing in her doorway. Her stomach knots up and she feels like she going to be sick.

He's carrying Daryl's crossbow.

There's blood. A lot of it.

It's on his clothes and hands.

His eyes look bloodshot and panicked.

"Where's… Dar…" She can hardly get enough air in her lungs to say his name.

There's more noise in the hall.

It's a mix of anxious voices asking what happened and are you alright, one finally stands out to her.

"I ain't dead! Rick! Tell her I ain't dead, dammit!"

And she can breathe again when Rick steps to the side and Daryl is there in front of her. The side of his face is torn up, scraped and dirty, and he's cradling his right arm close to his chest, but he's standing there breathing heavily with his eyes locked on hers.

She crosses the room in no time and lets her hand cover his where it's resting on his forearm. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"I ain't dead."

"What happened to your arm?"

"Shoulder's out." He winces as he sits down on the bed. She can see the way his arm is dropped down too far in front, uneven with the other side.

"Carol knows how to set it, why didn't she?" Beth moves in front of him and starts undoing the buttons on his shirt.

Daryl has to cough a little to pull her from her task and when her eyes meet his she knows exactly what he's going to say. She can't help the tears that immediately blur her sight.

"She ain't here any more."

 

He's laying down on their bed while Maggie is trying to coax his shoulder back into the socket. Eyes screwed shut, not saying a word as she turns and twists his arm. He's just chewing on his lip and every now and then grimacing and growling against the pain. Beth is next to him cleaning the gravel from the scrape on his cheekbone, they're all listening to Rick recount what happened from his place leaning against the door. The room feels so much smaller than it did twenty minutes ago.

"Daryl was trying to go back, up that little loading dock. To get her. She just pulled him close for a second and then shoved him off. He went down, over that little handrail, and she went down right where she was. Saw at least three on her, made the shots but it didn't matter." Rick lets out a shaking sigh while Daryl's growl of pain abruptly ends as the joint slides back into place. Maggie helps him sit up and Beth starts rigging a sling.

"She's in the truck." Daryl's voice is low and he's not looking at anyone as Beth uses a blue scarf to secure his arm against his side. "Her body, I mean." Daryl lets his eyes dart to Beth before landing back in his own lap. "Couldn't just leave her."

Rick can see some of the tension leaving Daryl now that they're safe and he notices the way his whole body slumps with the weight of guilt setting in. "We'll have a funeral tomorrow. Get some rest, Daryl." He approaches the bed and kneels down to look him in the eyes, one hand on his good shoulder. Rick's voice is quiet, but loud enough that Beth can hear it. "You did everything you could. It's not your fault."

He stands and looks at her before he leaves the room. "Make sure he gets some sleep. It was… it wasn't easy."

Beth nods. Everyone leaves and their room feels exactly the size it should. She helps him with unlacing his boots and the button on his pants before getting him to settle back into the pillows. Pain is making all the features of his face tighten.

"I have some aspirin, it's not much but…"

"Nah, 'm alright." His tone is harsher than she expects and he hardly looks at her when she sits beside him.

She knows he thinks he deserves it. The pain radiating from his shoulder feels like punishment, and that's the only consequence he's ever known. It's the only way he knows to hold himself accountable for the things he's done wrong, even when he hasn't done anything.

Beth reaches out to let her hand rest on his leg and rub the muscle above his knee. Daryl's eyes are closed and she can tell he's trying to relax enough to fall asleep.

It takes a long time for his breathing to even out.

She's only been asleep for a few hours when Beth is jerked awake by his nightmares. He's making those small noises again and moving around as much as he can. Even in his sleep, his lip is pulled between his teeth and his brow is knit tightly enough to turn his entire face into a frown. She gently wakes him and finally gets him to take a dose of aspirin. His voice is soft and tired, the sadness isn't hidden anymore.

"Why would she do that?"

Beth lets her fingertips touch his where they hang in the sling. She swallows back tears at the innocent tone of his voice. At how lost he sounds, still foggy from sleep.

His breath hitches as he sighs. "She said 'I'm sorry', when she grabbed me. That was it. I didn't even see it comin'. Couldn't do anything."

"She changed. There was something different about her, not like at the farm or the prison." Beth tries to keep her voice as quiet as his, it's not an easy task.

"She killed people." He looks up at the ceiling when Beth looks at him in confusion. "People she didn't have to kill, people she shouldn'ta had to kill."

Beth doesn't push him. She can't, not on this and before she has time to think about it he's whispering to her again.

"I…I think she was my first real friend." Daryl pushes a harsh breath out of his nose and covers his eyes with his good arm. "She was my first friend."

There's nothing Beth can do but wipe away her tears as she gently presses against him and lets her body feel every halted, jerking breath as he tries to calm himself down. He's fighting to bring his focus back to the stab of pain in his shoulder instead of ache of loss. She rests her hand on his stomach and rubs small circles on his skin, willing his muscles to relax and his pain to lessen.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning she helps him get dressed and readjusts the sling. The pain from the small movements and the way she has to help him into his shirt and lace up his boots for him make him nervous, he's never been good at letting people do things for him, not that anyone ever really did. He peers out the window when she leaves the room and has a straight line of sight to where Rick and Glenn are digging the grave. He turns away when the door opens. Beth comes to him with water and aspirin.

"Should be out there, helping." It comes out mumbled as he moves the water away from his mouth. He feels useless, like a burden. He's only been out of commission a few hours and he's already letting guilt get the best of him. How the hell is going to last the three weeks Maggie said he'd be laid up?

"I know."

Beth reaches up to work her hand against the tense muscles in his neck. He drops his head and let's her.

"You have to try to stay relaxed. Gotta let your muscles heal before you start getting the strength back, otherwise it'll keep getting knocked out. That's what happened with Shawn, he started playing football again and had to have surgery."

Daryl huffs, "Ain't like that's an option."

"I know, but…"

"You're tryin' to help, I ain't makin' it easy." He sighs and turns to look at her, "You comin' out there?"

She nods and follows him outside.

That night is quiet, Daryl is pacing in the bedroom. It's just after dinner but being around everyone was just too much. So, he's there, alone in the room. All of the painful, nervous energy he has is thrumming inside his body, his heart is pounding hard against his chest and his blood sounds too loud in his ears. He's biting his thumbnail, but that doesn't help, it's the wrong hand. The moon is bright and out the boarded window he can see the mound of dirt with the crooked cross. He sits down, more carefully than usual, in the rocking chair.

He's trying not to remember back when he was little. He's having a hard time ignoring the fact that he remembers none of the other kids ever came to his house, they never asked him to do any of the stuff he tagged along to. There's not a friendly face that stands out in his memory. He remembers following Merle around, always being that extra person to fit in the car or the one sitting on the edge of the table or standing by the end of the bar. There wasn't one of them he would've ever called up. He remembers Carol reaching out to him. Seeking him out and telling him he was just as good, bringing him food when he was looking out for everyone, talking to him when she could see he needed it, helping him realize who he could be, who he was. He doesn't want her to be gone, god, he's so tired of losing people.

Beth comes in and sits on the bed.

"Hey."

His hand finds hers and pulls it as close as he can.

"You alright?"

He swallows the lump in his throat and looks at her while his thumb rubs her knuckles. He can see the pain he feels reflected back at him. "No, I…" Daryl stops and just shakes his head, "No."

Beth has only been able to think about the closeness they had shared. She thinks about the way Carol would have looked at her when she was singing earlier, and hopes she still got to hear it. She remembers the way she could talk so openly with the older woman, all the things Carol taught her. How to care for a baby, how you could stay open and warm even when you lost everything, how to make someone feel the love of a mother even when you aren't theirs.

"Me either."


	9. Chapter 9

Things have been tense in the house for the past two weeks. Beth can see the way Carol's death weighs on everyone, she feels the way it weighs on her. Daryl has been trying listen to her and Maggie, to rest his arm and be a good patient. He stretches and does the range of motion exercises they remembered from Shawn, but he's taken to stalking around the outside of the house during the day. All Beth can compare it to is the leopard at the zoo, pacing the fence line of his too small enclosure. She finishes getting dressed and calls to him to come back in.

"Everything alright?" His eyes dart around their room and then relax on her when he finds everything in it's place. He watches her sheath her knife then pick up his bow with one hand and hand him her pistol with the other.

"Let's go hunting."

Daryl raises a brow, "Don't think I can shoot that yet." He nods at his crossbow.

"No, probably not." Beth grins up at him, "But I can."

They're laying in bed facing each other and Daryl touches the turkey feather Beth cleaned and tucked in her hair.

"Damn good shot on that bird. Wasn't thinkin' it was time for Thanksgivin' yet."

"It isn't, more like Easter I think."

He rolls his eyes and pulls a little on her hair. "Ya did good."

"Got a good teacher."

He huffs, "Damn right you do."

Beth kisses the side of his mouth as it pulls into a smile. There is a spark of pride in his eyes when he looks at her and it makes her feel so sure of herself, knowing that he helped to form her from the innocent farmer's daughter she used to be, into this confident, capable person she has become. Seeing the way he looks at her right then finally pushes her through that last boundary, the last checkpoint she needed to cross. He's looking at her and she feels like he's seeing the woman, not girl, that he loves. It doesn't matter that he hasn't seen her as a girl since they burned that house down. Right then is the first time she really knows it and it's like some switch has been flipped.

She smiles back at him and presses her body closer. She can feel the way he reacts to her, the twitch against her leg. Beth slips out of her tank top and pulls that lip he's always biting on into her mouth while her sensitive nipples brush against his bare chest.

Daryl's low groan when she moves her leg gives her more courage. She hooks her other leg over his hip and lets her hips move against his. He bucks into her, pressing against her through their remaining thin layer of clothes, she's starting to feel warm and wet, just like when he slips his fingers into her.

The time it takes her to move her hand from his side to the band of his boxers stretches on forever, she's finally tugging them down the best she can and he shifts his hips to make it easier. Beth can see the question in his eyes when she pulls off her underwear, he gets her answer when her leg goes back over him and pulls them together. He's twitching against her, right where she can feel it the most. It doesn't take any words, just a small nod from her and he kisses her hard while he carefully lines himself up against her entrance and gently presses in.

The while angle of laying side by side like they are keeps his face right on hers, it also keeps him from burying himself completely inside her. He's got one hand on her thigh and the other is in her hair. Beth can feel the slight burn in the way her body stretches to accommodate him, she can feel the way he rubs against her clit with every small, shallow movement of his hips. It's intense and it feels better than Beth ever thought it would. He's only been inside her for a few minutes but the constant stimulation coupled with the sounds he's making and the way he's sucking and kissing on her neck have her moaning and writhing against him.

The next thing she knows she tightening around him, just about to come, and Daryl's using his good arm to push her on top of him. She braces her arm on the bed and bites down hard on her lip as he pushes all the way into her and looks up at her face just as her orgasm hits. He jerks his hips up hard and fast twice, before bringing her down beside him and pulling out as he comes.

"Beth…" His voice is strained and he's breathing heavily.

She moves so her face is against his neck.

Daryl can feel her lips turn into a small smile and the vibration of her soft hum. The only thing he does before they fall asleep is reach for her discarded shirt to clean himself off.


	10. Chapter 10

His lip is split open.

Not in one spot like he caught a punch, but in a series of small breaks in the skin. It's from the way he's been chewing on it out in the cool air. She watches him, his bottom lip almost always in his mouth, no matter what he's doing, pulling off bits of chapped skin with his teeth. He never even opened the tube of chapstick she found for him. She catches the red tint of his lips in the flickering light of their small fire.

They've been staying in a tent again for the last four nights. He still stays next to her all night, if he's on watch, which is most of the time, he silently begs her with a short glance not to leave his side in the dark. Knowing where she is, being able to reach out and physically feel her keeps the panic pushed down to an almost tolerable level. He's been functioning on small catnaps just before dawn and every bit of him shows it. The bags are back under his eyes, the blue of them is overshadowed with shades of purple and yellow. His words have grown impossibly shorter and so has his temper. The looks he gives her in their fabric bunk are more frantic and closed off than they ever were in their sturdy walled room. When he leaves their tent he's back to that person he was that first winter on the road, closed off, quiet, determined. He focus is purely on their safety and survival.

Beth is having a hard time approaching him about it. It's never been easy to bring him out of his shell around the rest of the group. It's even harder now that there are some new people and they're never really out of earshot. She's afraid of him taking her concern for him as her seeing weakness, when really, she knows he's doing more than he can to be strong for their patchwork quilt of a family. It's hard not having those quiet moments tucked into their bed together and she can feel the stress rolling off of him and piling onto her.

They're in the tent together, she as comfortable as she can get on their bedroll and Daryl is sitting beside her, doing his best to look calm. She hears him grunt as his teeth click together and reopen one of the cuts on his lip. The next thing she knows her thumb is resting there on the edge of his mouth, pulling his lip away from his teeth.

"You gotta stop that." Beth lets her fingertips stroke his cheek to combat the sternness of her voice.

He freezes at the contact and then drops his chin. His mouth is still a little open and he lets his lips close around her thumb.

Beth can see how much the small bit of intimacy impacts him. Daryl's shoulders relax and aside from the quick glances he gives her, his eyes drop closed. She keeps gently rubbing his cheek and leaves her thumb resting between his teeth.

"You really need sleep, Daryl." Her voice is soft, concerned. He hears it loud in his ears and wonders how she's always right.

"Got watch in an hour." He turns his head from her worried look, away from her soft touch.

"Rick's taking it."

The look he gives her is harsh and accusing. "Don't do that."

"What Daryl? Let you sleep for more than an hour at time?" She sighs, "Everyone's alright, we have enough people on watch."

"Like at the farm?" His words are clipped. "Like at the prison? The funeral home? The house?"

"Daryl…"

He lets out a breath and immediately looks defeated. "I can't keep doing this. Settling in and then losin' everything. We were safe, home…"

"We all thought that." Beth moves his hair from his eyes, "I think… the only home we get now is each other."


	11. Chapter 11

She thinks maybe he heard her, that he really listened. Maybe her words sunk through. He's been sleeping a little more, letting her be close, relaxing more into her touch. It's not much, but from him it might as well be the world, letting his guard down, trusting that someone else will carry a bit of the burden.

He was so different from anyone else she had been with. She had to approach things with him in a more roundabout way than she ever had to before, it seemed to give every touch, every flirty glance more meaning. Daryl was her first, he had pieces of her that no one else would ever get, but she had a little experience under her belt from before, very little. Everything about him made little things feel like firsts again. The hesitant way he pushed his tongue into her mouth, the way he always toyed with her bra strap for awhile before moving to unclip it. Just simple contact points were dodgy. She remembered how unsure she was when she first realized her left hand naturally came to rest on one of his scars every time he was on top. He had paused for a second and she could see the unease in his face, but it had passed, she left her hand where it was.

She saw the way he would shift under her gaze, despite how bright or dim the light was. She knew he didn't see himself the way she did. She knew he couldn't see the strength that she saw. Daryl didn't know how smooth the lines of his body felt to her, he couldn't understand the safety she felt in his strong embrace.

She was learning what he liked, he showed her in subtle ways. Small noises, turning towards her or away from her touch. Hardly ever away.

Her hands were always able to find that one soft spot on his thigh. Right where it met the inside of his hip. The skin there was sensitive, covered in soft hair and when her fingers would gently rub or pinch him there, he was completely hers. He had to suck his lip hard into his mouth to keep his voice low when she moved her mouth there. Beth was pulling that spot between her teeth and Daryl knew that he would have a bruise.

"Beth…" He had to grind her name out between his clenched teeth to keep from moaning when she cupped his balls. He couldn't help the noise he made when she gently tugged on them. He knew he wouldn't last long.

Daryl lets his hand tangle in her hair and struggles not to buck his hips up into her while she drags her nails down the inside of his thigh. He's leaning against one of the trees their makeshift tent is strung up between, the bark is catching on his flannel. Beth's free hand kneads into his ass and pulls him closer. He looks down just in time to see her run her tongue along her lips before taking as much of him as she can into her mouth. Her tongue flicks against the flare of his head before she puts more pressure on him. She's sucking and licking and god he's never had a blow job when he was sober before.

He tries to pull back when he's about to cum but Beth and the tree against his back keep him where he is. She swallows and uses her thumb to wipe the corner of her mouth as she stands up. Daryl grabs her, his pants still pushed down just below his knees, and kisses her hard. She's a delicious mix of the two of them, her with a hint of him. He shoves his tongue into her mouth. There's some noise outside, just people waking waking up, moving around behind their curtain of sheets. Beth yanks his pants up.

"Come on, Mr. Dixon."


	12. Chapter 12

His lips are still split. The coppery tang of his blood over powers the taste of him every time she kisses them. He refuses to use the chapstick she gave him, just shoves it in his vest pocket. He still isn't sleeping or eating enough, but he's a little more willing to give up a watch here and there so she doesn't push the issue, just monitors it. She's worrying about him, watching as he moves around the small room they're set up in. His movements are stiff. It's barely noticeable, but she sees it plain as day.

"Come lay down."

He does.

Beth slowly starts on the lines of buttons, her fingers are used to the motion. Muscle memory takes over while her eyes drift to his face. His eyes are closed. She's slowly peeling away each fraying layer of armor. She draws out the process of undressing him, knowing if she takes her time his breathing stays calm and even. If she keeps her movements steady and predictable he won't jump or flinch at her touch.

Daryl's not the man she would've pictured herself with before but she knows he's who she belongs with now. His eyes are bright, but hidden behind dark circles and years she has yet to experience and things she never will. His too long hair and slightly graying beard obscure the lines of his face. He doesn't have chiseled abs and smooth skin, like the boy-men she used to pin up in her locker. Daryl's strong, his body is solid in all the places that make sense, but sometimes he can shrink down into nothing. She's used to the way he feels under her hand, how every now and then he shifts her fingers to a spot that is easier to have touched.

Tonight he's still, letting her rub his shoulders. He knows she's checking the right one carefully, disguising it with a kiss. Any barrier between them is laying in a wrinkled pile on the floor. They have an actual bed and a lock on the door, it's almost like their old room. It's still hard, these gentle moments, he has to work to enjoy this kind of attention. He tries not to think about how inept he is and concentrates on the idea that he can do this, he can give her this. She's made it so he can.

She rubs the place where his leg meets his hip, she knows how sore that spot gets. She sees the way he favors it, how he rubs at it when he's been sitting too long. She's pretty sure it's arthritis.

He'll never tell her how it only got bad after he ran for nearly eight hours straight. How he can still feel the changes in his body, the physical symptoms of her disappearance are lingering even though she's been back with him for nearly a year. His joints still ache, his knees click when he squats down to check tracks, his left ankle turns under him for no reason, sometimes he can't catch his breath until he's touching her. He doesn't hide it from her, but he never explains how much damage losing her really did. Daryl knows she sees him limp across the room in the morning before sucking it up in front of everyone else. He knows she hears his slight groan when he stands up too fast, she watches him squint to read when she finds something he might like. His eye never healed right after the night he found Rick, doesn't focus the same.

Laying next to her, his head beside hers, he forgets. He doesn't think about how broken he feels during the day. He pushes away the thought that one day it will happen again, he might not be enough, strong enough, fast enough, to keep her safe. He replaces that thought with the image of her hefting his bow onto her shoulder, using what he taught her, the image of her coming back to him, the image of her strength. He reminds himself how she is so much stronger than he is. Daryl tucks his face into the curve of her neck and pulls her soft, strong body against his rough one.

Beth can feel him pulling his lip into his mouth, the patch of hair above his chin tickling against her skin as he pushes his toungue in front of his lower teeth. His hand goes from her side to her shoulder. He's rubbing his thumb over his lips, and then lets it move between his teeth.

"Daryl?"

"Mmm?" His chest vibrates against her, his response comes out as a low hum.

"Do you think…this was all meant to happen?"

"Like fate, or somethin'?" His words are a little mumbled, toppling out of his mouth, past his hand, landing warm on her skin.

"Yeah."

"Got some little red string tied to me?" He knows faith in some greater power, something more than just them, pushes her forward. His thumb is pulling at the corner of his mouth.

She smiles even though he can't see it. "Mmhmm, it's not good for man to be alone." She touches his elbow, "Think I'm your suitable helper?"

"Suitable ain't the right word."

"Think I'm made outta some missing ribs?"

"Maybe." He strokes her neck. "Definitely made outta stuff I aint."

"Think I was made for you?"

He's quiet, let's his fingers trace the line leading to her collar bone. "Nah, that aint right." He clears his throat a little, "You're made for more than just me. I… I was made missin' you. Probably a thousand more just like me, walkin' around half empty."

"What made you so lucky?"

He huffs, pulls her closer so he can feel her breathing. "Still tryin' to figure that one out."


	13. Chapter 13

The importance of an anniversary has always managed to evade Daryl, until now. He had always spent time trying to forget anniversaries, never trying to remember them. The significance of it hit him out of nowhere and he hasn't been able to get it out of his mind. He's been carefully tracking the days and as far as he can tell he's hit the nail right in the middle of it's pin sized head. They're holed up in a motel for a few days, concrete walls and a modicum of privacy. Couldn't ask for more.

She was only with Jimmy a few months. Zach even less than that. He doesn't think she's ever had an anniversary and days still tick by. Even though the world ended, it's still been a year. He's never had a reason to celebrate one either.

He doesn't think she knows, but then it occurs to him she might not count the same date as he does. It might be a completely different day in her head. It could be the first time they kissed, the first tentative embrace, but for him it was that first night he spent in her bed. The first time he actually slept with someone and the last time he slept alone, it's not a small thing to him.

He remembers something about paper. How it was the traditional first year gift, at least he thinks it is. He doesn't have a hard time finding her a new, leather-bound journal and a box of pens. He does have a hard time writing on the first page.

He's been careful, hidden the small gift he got her in the bottom of his pack, keeping his eye out for roses. It gets more difficult, playing it cool, as the day nears and he's sure she can see something off. Daryl knows she can tell he's keeping something from her.

It was after noon when he got back from hunting, he knew she would be with Maggie. He didn't have a hard time slipping in and out of their room before heading to the fenced in playground to find her laying clothes out to dry on the monkey bars.

Daryl quietly slips in behind her. The way she pretends to be surprised every time he bends to kiss the back of her neck makes his lungs expand and his cheeks pull back into a small grin.

"Got somethin' for you." His breath is warm on her neck.

"Oh yeah?"

He nods into her hair, "Come on back to the room."

"Alright."

His hand lands on her waist and gently leads her, blue eyes scanning ahead, keeping careful watch.

"M'not sure what the date is, but I been countin' the days."

"Counting for what?"

Beth sees the way a nervous blush rises up his neck and into his cheeks as he opens the door before her and quickly looks over the room. She takes a step in and her breath catches.

"Daryl…"

"Ain't much, just tried to make somethin' nice."

There's a mismatched bouquet of roses, all different sizes, colors, and degrees of wilted, plucked from overgrown neighborhood gardens and sitting in a dirty vase on the small table. Several red ones are laying on the bed next to a gift wrapped in brown paper. She looks over her shoulder to catch him rubbing the back of his neck.

"What's it for?" She knows the time of year is off for it to be her birthday.

"Been a year… since…" He gestures between the two of them and watches realization come across her face.

Beth bites her lip and smiles, tears are welling up in her eyes. "It's our anniversary?"

"Mmhmm."

She turns to him and flings her arms around his neck. Her fingers lace into his hair and the nervous tension leaves him as he breathes in the scent of her wrapped around him.

"You gonna open your present?"

She settles next to him on the bed, tucked under his arm against his chest. His fingers tap a gentle rhythm on her arm while he watches her read his short words.

Beth,

Paper's the gift for the first anniversary. I'm not sure what the next few are but I'll figure something out. Keep writing.

Happy Anniversary

Love you, Daryl

"Sorry 'bout my writing." Daryl's voice is soft and honest.

"It's perfect."

He rubs his hand over his face. "S'messy."

She runs her fingers over his scrawled message, a tangible reminder that he is hers. "Yeah, but it's perfect."

She kisses the side of his jaw and her fingers find their way underneath his layers of clothing to rest on his side.

"I don't have anything to give you."

He doesn't say anything, just gives her a sideways grin and raises one eyebrow while her hands move to his belt.

 

"How'd you figure it?" Beth is curled up tight next to him the sweat between them is the only barrier. They have at least an hour before their watch.

Daryl runs his hand up and down her back and presses his lips to the top of her head, "I ain't gonna forget one day wakin' up with you."


	14. Chapter 14

She's sick. She's sick and it's his fault.

It doesn't matter that nearly everyone in their group has come down with some variation of the flu, or that they've been eating just enough to keep going, or that it's been a long stretch of cold damp nights. It's his fault. She's coughing just like he was. She was the one who took care of him, made sure he drank, forced him to eat, she had even managed to find some expired cough syrup. Now she's laying on their bedroll shivering and whimpering. She can't keep anything down and he doesn't know what to do. He sits next to her and pushes her sweat damp hair off her face. Maggie made broth from the rabbit he caught and she just pushed it away.

Daryl is a mess of nerves. He doesn't say much to anyone who peeks in to check on her. He's afraid to be gone long so they've been eating whatever small game he gets early in the morning from the quickly rigged snares.

He holds her against his chest all night, doing everything he can to keep her warm. He gives up on keeping watch over everyone to keep watch over her.

He wishes they had kept a book, one of the ones she had read aloud to him and Judith in their old room. Some hopeful tale of perseverance he could use to remind her and himself that they would be alright. But there are no nicely written stories for him to read her, the only stories he knows end sad. He mutters plot lines to old movies, ignoring it when his breath hitches, pretending he doesn't catch himself stuttering. He pretends he doesn't hear Glenn or Rick nearby talking quietly about what they should do for him. He ignores Maggie asking Bob what they can do for her.

"Gotta drink, Beth." He holds water to her dry lips. She turns her head. "Co'mon now. Gotta have some."

"Hurts."

He forces her to drink half the bottle.

Michonne finds a hunter's cabin. Its just a few miles. Despite the burning muscles in his back and aching in his legs, Daryl carries her the whole way there.

It's only got one bedroom but that's enough to keep her out of the tent. The sturdy walls fare better against the wind and cold. There's a small camp stove that still has some propane, and a pile of musty blankets that he uses to cover the drafty corners.

There are several terrifying nights when her breath comes in harsh gasps, and what seems like hours of coughing. Daryl finds himself whispering into her hair, not caring that Maggie is sitting right across from them. Pleading fingers running along her feverish skin. Telling her she's the only person who ever loved him, that she's the only one he's ever wanted. Begging her not to die.

She doesn't.

"You were scared." Her voice is still rough. She's been spending more time up and about the last few days, but her breath is shorter than it was before, she's lost too much weight.

"I remember you holding me, talking to me." Beth sighs and moves his hair back from his face. "You were crying."

"Mmhmm." He doesn't look at her when he admits it.

"It was really that bad?"

His teeth are chewing at his lip. "I thought you were gonna…"

"I didn't."

His hands are so gentle that night. Carefully touching her, slowly moving against her and into her. He keeps his face in the crook of her neck, hiding the emotion that she knows is in his eyes. She can hear it seeping out through his whispered 'I love you's'.

It's two weeks before she's strong enough to go back on the road.

Beth seems so tired, everyone does, moving so much slower now. It's blatantly clear how many other things could kill them aside from walkers. He notices she's been passing off her food, giving it to Judy or Carl, especially in the morning.

Daryl finds himself feeling more protective of her. It's nearly impossible to breath unless he's right next to her. He carries her pack and holds her hand while they walk.

They've been moving a lot. Skipping from house to house, divvying up whatever food they can find. Just like after the farm, except now Beth curls up next to him instead of across from him. She told him, one night about that first winter on the road.

"I always sat across from you."

He follows her with his eyes as she picks at the last of he meat on her plate.

"After the farm."

"Mmhmm. I remember. Caught you looking at me enough times to notice it."

She smiles, "Yeah. I trusted you, even then. I needed to know you could see it. That I knew you would do everything you could to keep us safe."

He remembers those big blue eyes falling on him, every time they stopped to eat or sleep she was directly across from him. All he had to do was turn his head to catch a glimpse of the faith she had. It had helped, some nights he had needed it, and somehow it was still enough to keep pushing him forward.


	15. Chapter 15

They've switched out clothes here and there along the way. Left all of the dirty, fraying bits behind that they could, stitched together the things they couldn't bear to part with, and filled in the gaps with sturdy new pieces. And somehow their wardrobes have become a metaphor for their lives. As they move north towns and houses get closer together. No one can deny how much they appreciate being able to take refuge from the cold wind. There have been several cabins and small ranches. The architecture is slowly transitioning to more and more dilapidated capes as they follow the Appalachians. Michonne notices how tired Beth looks, how it hits her the same time every afternoon.

The best houses are the getaway cabins, mostly simple A-frames. They're usually still locked up tight, a few have been meagerly stocked. They almost always have blankets and coats, bottled water and some random expired snack food. The one they're in now is bigger, obvious additions to the simple structure that have left just enough room for all of them. A fancy wood stove warms the main room.

There's a small fence around the property and he's had decent luck hunting. Things seem to be evening out and this is a good place for them to spend some time. He still holds her next to him, tucked against his chest, every night. Daryl stirs a little in the dark, dreams she's lost again. He can hear the echo of her cough as unconscious ideas of loss tug him awake. He tangles his fingers in her hair and rests his hand against his mouth.

 

It's a quiet night, when he hears Beth call out for her sister from the bathroom. Her voice sounds off, his ears perk up.

The door opens and closes, he can hear their mumbled voices.

"Daryl!" It's Maggie's voice. He's out the door in a flash, drops the arrows he's been fletching to the floor. The bathroom is right next door.

Beth is sitting on the camp toilet, set up next to the useless porcelain one. In the odd lighting the lantern casts off he can see that her pants are tangled around her ankles. She's crying. His heart jumps into his throat and he kneels down next to her.

"What's wrong? What's…"

Maggie touches his arm, her voice is quiet and concerned. "I'm pretty sure she had a miscarriage."

"A mis… she was…." He yanks his arm back and rubs his face.

Beth sobs.

Daryl pushes her hair back from her face. Some is sticking to her wet cheek.

"I…. I…."

"Shh, Bethy. There's nothing you could've done." Maggie rubs her arm.

"I thought it was just… my…"

Daryl is sitting back on his heels, one hand on her bare knee. He's looking at the floor. She starts to cry again, his fingertips make little white marks on her leg.

 

Bob checks her over. Asks her short questions and determines she should be alright. He explains what they already knew. She's young, malnourished, and stressed, a trifecta of bad circumstances. Daryl is quiet, holds her hand. He rubs his thumb over her knuckles when Bob says there's no reason to think she won't be able to try again when they're ready.

Daryl curses himself. He remembers her passing off her breakfast, he remembers her wanting more sleep. He remembers how protective he felt over her and suddenly these things were no longer just her recovering from being sick.

Maggie goes into the bathroom with her, to wash her hair. Suddenly all Daryl can think about is that the mass of tissue that would've been their child is sitting in a garbage bag. He's out the door in a second, cheap folding shovel in hand.

He digs a hole. It's deep, the edges are uneven.

He notices and steadies himself to fix it.

He fills it back in. Careful to make it even so he can put the grass back over the churned soil.

He lets the overgrown rosebush serve as a marker.

He sits out there until Maggie sends Glenn to bring him in, he never thought he would miss something he never really had, something he had never known he wanted.

 

She's so quiet for the next few days. She talks quietly with Maggie, accepts a gentle hug from Rick. Daryl isn't sure what to do.

He can't feel the emptiness inside her. He doesn't know how betrayed she feels by her own body, that she didn't even know until it was gone. How guilty she feels about not being able to save the one thing she has always wanted.

He's not used to this, her just laying in bed. He slides in next to her, his hands flutter a bit before resting on her.

"Beth."

"How did I not know?" She fists a hand in his flannel, "How did I not know I was…"

He doesn't know, doesn't know what to say. He can't explain why neither of them realized it. He doesn't know how to explain the heavy weight that has found it's way onto his chest. He doesn't know how to tell her that he's heartbroken and relieved at the same time.

"I dunno, Beth."

He just strokes her hair.

"I love you."

 

It's almost a week before she even looks at Judith.

Two weeks after that Lil' Asskicker reaches out for her and Beth picks her up. Maggie sees the tears fill her sister's eyes, watches to see her blink them back and smile as the little girl clings to her.

That night she cries, buries her face in Daryl's vest and sobs.

When she's done, face a splotchy red mess, she sees his face pulled tight as he fights to keep himself together.

"I'll be alright." Her voice catches, but she means it, "I'm always gonna miss….gonna want….but I'll be alright."

He sighs and nods, wishing they had more time, that she had more time to work through it. Wishing they weren't leaving the next morning.

"Me too."


	16. Chapter 16

He always comes back to their room right after his watch, drops his bow by the door and slips into bed beside her. It's dark and still, their little safe-zone is quiet, he always takes the night watch. She stirs a little when his fingers lift the hem of her shirt and his hand rests on her hip. Her breath stutters and she turns to press her face into his shoulder. Watches here are easy. Sitting perched above a well built wall, flanked by ditches and spikes, Daryl's having an easier time settling in.

Most of the time he falls to sleep pretty easily. Some nights it's still hard. There are nights when he paces the room, when she blearily asks if he's alright and he confesses that he can't sleep. Beth stays quiet, silently lifts the blanket and the only noise they hear is the creaking of the bed as she moves over and he lays down. She lets her hands trace patterns on his skin, pulls him close against her and strokes the hair back from his face as his mouth finds her nipple. Their bodies move slowly against one another, practiced at the art of matching angles, negotiating height difference. These are the nights his lips stay on hers, mumbling into her breath. These are the nights her hands stay on his skin, steadily following each muscle. Nights like this remind them they are not alone.

 

He spends most of the day in bed with her. They've never had the chance for it before, not like this. Hours spent looking and touching, he doesn't think he's ever smiled so much in one day. She's putting little braids in his greasy hair and talking about some car her brother had wanted.

"Braid my hair?"

"Huh?"

Daryl turns to look at her. She's naked, sheet wrapped around her like some goddess, smiling at him.

"I've seen you make rope, it's just like that."

He chews his lip and then motions for her to turn around. He's shit at telling her 'no'.

Beth hums as he carefully works his fingers through the tangles in her hair. He's quick to mutter an apology when he gets a finger caught and tugs too hard. She can feel him separate her hair and begin to cross each section over another.

"I'll cut yours for you, later on. It's gotta be gettin' in the way."

"Mmm."

She can tell by the low breath he lets out that he's concentrating. Beth can picture him working his lip between his teeth, she can feel his elbows bump against the bare skin of her back.

Her hair thumps against her when he finishes.

"Looks like shit."

She can hear the smile on his face. Beth runs her fingers over the braid, it's a little uneven and stops before it should, six inches of loose hair beneath the elastic. She tucks the long lock of blond he missed behind her ear.

"Well, come on." She grabs his hand.

"Where we goin'?"

"Gotta wash your hair so I can cut it."

Daryl watches her move from the bed, the sheet pulling away from her skin as she stands and picks up his flannel from the floor. There's just something about the way she looks, pushing the too long sleeves over her elbows, that makes his dick twitch. He grunts and shifts on the bed.

"What? So I smell like roses?" He pulls on his pants and follows her to the bathroom.

"No, apple." Beth holds up the quarter full bottle of shampoo. "Ever had someone wash your hair before?"

"No."

"Com'ere. Havin someone else wash your hair is the best." She leads him into kitchen and pulls one of the chairs up against the sink. "Come sit."

He watches her for a minute.

"A'right." He grunts as he lowers himself into the chair. He's sitting straight, shoulders pushed back.

"Daryl," She smiling at him, "You gotta lean back. I'm not gonna just dump water all over you."

He listens, slides down in the seat and leans back over the sink.

"Close your eyes."

He does. The water turns on, he can feel a splash against his ear as she checks the temperature. It's warm against his scalp. He sighs when she starts to massage the shampoo into the roots of his hair. She's leaning over him and the fabric of his shirt that she's still wearing brushes against his chest. Beth turns the faucet back on and starts to rinse his hair, Daryl's neck cramps up and he moves, just a little, but it's enough to send a wave of soapy water over his face.

"Don't move!"

He snaps up before he hears her, opens his eyes and then clamps them shut again, the burn of the soap makes him growl.

"Daryl!" She presses her hand to her mouth, stifling the laugh that tries to escape.

"Don' laugh! Do somethin'!" His voice is higher pitched than she would've expected.

"Okay, okay, lean back lemme get the rest of the soap out."

He listens, when she finishes she presses a wet dishtowel to his eyes and nudges him to sit up.

Beth picks up the comb and scissors she laid out on the counter and turns back to Daryl sitting there in the chair, staying right where she said, shirtless, with his wet hair dripping water down his face. He's fidgeting, knees bouncing, red-rimmed eyes skipping around the room.

She doesn't say anything as she steps between his legs and touches his chin, angling his face up to her. He watches her face as she smoothes out his hair, her comb following the natural way it lays on his head.

"Keep still. I gotta make sure the front's even."

He lets out a breath when she uses two fingers to pick up pieces of hair from his forehead. Each snip makes him flinch a little. She works her way to the back, bending down or stepping back to make sure it's even.

"All done, whadda you think?" She holds up a mirror.

He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his shortened hair. "S'good. Better than before."

She laughs, "Well thanks for the compliment."

He moves to stand.

"Wait, lemme dry it out."

Beth works a towel over his head, gently wringing out the remaining water. When she's done she uses the towel to brush off his shoulders and smoothes his clean hair.

"You look good, younger too."

His ears turn red and he mumbles out a thanks.

"Thanks for letting me."

He cocks an eyebrow at her, she can actually see it now. "What? Try blind me?"

She shakes her head and then leans to kiss him. "Letting me take care'a you."


	17. Chapter 17

They have a fireplace. It's small but keeps the living room warm, on cold nights that's where they sleep. They're close to the river and when he comes in from watch the tips of his fingers and his nose are red. It takes him longer than usual to unlace his boots but by the time he's done Beth has their blankets set out and a cup of tea sitting on the coffee table.

He looks up to her walking up to him.

She takes his vest and the jacket he wears underneath it and stands on her toes to kiss his wind-chapped lips.

"Didn't hafta wait up for me." His lips press their chill against her cheek and she can feel his warm breath on her ear.

"I can't sleep without you, Daryl."

Beth can see he's tired. She hands him the mug and watches him sip at it before walking around the room. Daryl checks each window, double checks that he locked the door. It took nearly a month for him to relax into their small apartment and every night he goes through the same routine.

She comes up behind him, her small hands feel like fire when they slip under the hem of his shirt and slide around to his stomach. One hand leaves the warmth of the mug to rub her knuckles. He leans back, the heat and comfort he gets from her being pressed against him lets his muscles relax and next thing he knows he's following her to the couch. She takes the mug from his hand and leaves it on the coffee table while he sits.

"Tough night?" She moves to stand between his legs.

"Nah, 'nother group came in. Just getting names, checking weapons."

He leans back and watches her pull her sweater over her head. Her hair falls back onto her shoulders, static strands reaching out.

"Beth…" Her name slips from his lips like a reflex, he watches her step out of her pants and closer to him.

"Supposed to warm you up quicker, skin to skin contact, right?"

Daryl presses his hand into her hip and up to cup her breast, "Mmhmm."

He pulls his shirt over his head and lifts his hips as Beth's hands make quick work of his belt and zipper.

Her knees fit perfectly outside of his hips and the height leaves his mouth even with her nipple. Daryl guides her breast to his lips and pulls one of the blankets around her shoulders. His tongue slides teasingly around her nipple before he sucks it hard into his mouth. The moan she lets out makes his dick twitch, one arm is snaked around her back and the other is resting high on her thigh, his thumb moving in small circles. He's pulling her as close as he can.

One of her hands is fisted in his hair, holding his head against her chest as he sucks and pulls as much of her breast into his mouth as he can. The blanket keeps the heat trapped between them and all Daryl knows is her. Beth in his hands, his mouth. Beth keeping his legs still, his face pressed into her. Beth wrapped around him keeping away the cold. Beth's hand guiding him into her and Beth setting torturously slow, perfect pace that quickly has him gasping with rise and fall of her hips.

He pulls her mouth to his, lets his tongue slip through her lips and past her teeth to meet her tongue. His hips rise to meet hers a few times and she can feel how close he is to cumming. Beth tightens her muscles around him one last time and Daryl groans into her mouth as his orgasm rushes through him. Next thing he knows she is collapsing against his chest as he shifts to pull out of her.

Daryl turns onto his side and pulls her flush against him, "Can't both fit here any other way." He whispers into her hair.

"Okay, Mr. Dixon." She smiles, he can hear it in her voice.

In the morning, after a night spent curled around her, it doesn't bother him that he doesn't really fit in here. She gives him a cup of black coffee before she leaves, he knows she's going to get Judith and head to the old meeting hall they use as a school. He knows that she says hello to nearly everyone she sees on the way there, remembers all their names. The few times he's walked with her he's felt eyes on him. He wonders what it must look like, her, so bright and young, pressed against his side. The thought makes him smile as he laces up his boots.


	18. Chapter 18

He spends most of the day in bed with her.

Her breathing is rough and shallow. He knows she's in pain. The antibiotics they found didn't help. Doctor said it's probably viral pneumonia. After being sick before, she had all the risk factors, they couldn't have done much more to stave it off.

She's pressed into his chest, their room is dim, the curtains drawn. Daryl finds himself absently running his fingers through her hair, over the small braid she still keeps there.  
"Got your knife?"  
"Mmmhmm, why?"  
She coughs, "Cut it, take the braid."  
He pulls in a deep breath and presses his eyes shut, thinks back on every hair cut she's given him this past year.   
He still can't braid for shit.  
"Ain't cutting your hair, Beth."


	19. Chapter 19

Somehow, time passes.   
Daryl knows exactly how many days it’s been since he’s slept in an actual bed. Details like that have always managed to stick with him. He knows it been five hundred and eleven days since he held her. There are times he wakes up covered in sweat to Rick or Michonne offering to sit with him. Sometimes, on the bad nights when all he can hear is the rasp of her last ‘I love you’, he says yes.   
Rick is quiet, he can picture the tears running unchecked as Daryl pushed his knife into that small spot behind her ear, remembers the panic in Daryl’s eyes when the blood started to seep into her hair. He can still see the way Daryl’s shirt caught on his chin, and then on his elbow, as he scrambled for something to soak it up. 

He left, was gone for weeks after she died.   
Stay who you are, not who you were.  
He came back. Thin and hoarse, but he came back.  
Daryl doesn’t know what everyone thought when he showed up. He knows Maggie cried watching him replant a scraggly rose bush on her grave.  
His lips are always chapped, he burns through stale cigarettes one right after another.  
There is an unopened tube of cherry Chapstick in his pocket, dirt working it’s way beneath the edges of the plastic seal. His thumb traces gently over a small blonde braid stitched on the inside of his vest. 

Time passes.  
Every time someone else says her name he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. Maggie mentions her. Talks about days before Daryl even knew she existed. She talks about it like she doesn’t remember the way he swore until he couldn’t breathe then pressed his face into her stomach and sobbed the first time someone said her name after they buried her.  
More people die. Carl comes down the stairs one night and sits on the couch, asks if it’s worth it to care. Sniffs back tears and asks how he’s supposed to live afraid all the time. Daryl clears his throat, sits for minute. “You gotta keep it there, the scary shit. Tuck it away if you hafta, but you gotta keep it.”   
“W…why?”  
Daryl shakes his head, shrugs, “If you ain’t afraid of nothin’, you got nothin’.”

Judith learns to talk. She says Dada and Chonne, Carl, Maggie. She even says Daryl. There are other names she never really learns, at least not the way she should. 

Days flick past, nights drag.   
There are nights when even the couch feels too big and all he can feel is cold where she should be.   
There are nights he wishes he could forget she ever loved him.   
There are nights he lays awake adding the seconds until they turn into minutes, then hours, and then another day without her. Five hundred and twelve.

He’s not really sure if she was right, that night on the porch, that he would be the last man standing. He hopes she was wrong. He hopes Rick made it to Carl, that Michonne reached the fuse. He presses fingers into the bullet holes in his stomach and looks at the way the blood coats his hand. He thinks about Merle and his ma, wonders if they felt like this, if they knew. He’s sure she did.  
He lays there, bleeding out into the dirt, for some stretch of time. It’s hard to move too much and his vision is blurry. His eyelids drop and he hears Rick talking above him. He presses his eyes closed and thinks of her face. There’s the weight of hand on his shoulder and Daryl uses the last of his strength to push his forehead against the muzzle of Rick’s Python.  
There’s a flash when Rick finally squeezes the trigger but it never fades to black. Daryl blinks and sunlight fills his eyes, it’s pouring in through a familiar window. He squints against it and knows exactly where he is.   
Their bedroom. Not the last one in the Safe Zone, the first one, in the little brick ranch. The light streams in through the boarded up window. Daryl glances around the room from the bed, taking it in again, the crib is still there but the baby in it is littler than Judy was. He has to close his eyes and turn his head from the wisp of sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes.  
He breathes in the scent of her hair.   
“Beth.”   
Daryl squeezes his eyes shut and inhales again. Her thumb drags across his chapped lips and he has a fleeting thought about the chapstick. She’s warm against him and he can hear her content sigh when she finds that spot pressed close next to him where she just fits. That perfect place, curled together in their bed.


End file.
